Ancra Mortis Chapter 9

The Light of Terra shuddered as she strove to come about, the vast Battlebarge fighting her own inertia to bring its prow onto a new heading. The mighty vessel was a redoubtable weapon of war, designed to wade through the worst the galaxy could throw, but the trade-off was that she was far from being manoeuvrable. The problem was compounded by the fact that in space no manoeuvre is more time consuming or energy intensive than directly reversing course. Sheer inertia defeats any dreams of spacecraft pirouetting in the void, as a child's Holovid would proclaim.

Given the speed and vectors involved it was far faster to send the Light of Terra completely around the planet and bring her up from around the other side, making the planet's gravity work for the vessel. On her bridge Captain Toran was watching the various displays as the stars wheeled in the Hololith and the shining orb of Glaeba fell away behind her keel. He was struggling to not let his impatience show but he was gripping the command rail tightly and muttering "Come on, come on, how long does this take?"

Apothecary Memnos heard his frustration and said quietly so the crew would not hear, "She's no Strike Cruiser that's for sure."

Toran hissed, "This is intolerable, brave men are fighting and dying while we run circles around the planet."

It was Wrethan who said, "You are concerned for the Averof, but you should not be. She's a tough little ship and has an experienced commander, Mandas will not fall so easily."

Memnos looked at the Chaplain and said in a surprised tone of voice, "I have never heard you pay respects to someone outside the Chapter before; I thought you held all mortals in contempt."

Wrethan replied, "Frankly I have become accustomed to mortal's weakness and consistent failures, but this Captain has proved reasonably competent. Perhaps we should consider recruiting him into the ranks of our serfs, his skills would be a valuable asset to the Chapter."

Now Toran smiled grimly and said, "I suspect the only way anyone will ever get him off the bridge of that ship is when they pack him into his coffin and eject his cold body into space."

"As it should be," Wrethan allowed.

For long minutes they watched the Hololith spin as the Light of Terra dragged herself back out into deep space, plasma engines flaring as they struggled to push the ship faster. Finally the Battlebarge was heading the right way and as they came around the horizon the distant battle scene was visible, rising above the Terminus like a meteor shower sparkling in the dark. The Hololith automatically processed the Auspex feeds and presented a wireframe representation of the battle, of the two pugilists duelling in the dark.

Toran instantly processed the sight and his mind recreated the fight in minute detail. The Maw a'Gork was firing manoeuvring jets wildly in a vain attempt to come about and engage the Imperial cruiser. The Averof for her part was having none of it, using her far greater manoeuvrability to keep right in the Ork's stern and sticking there like a burr to an animal's fur. Toran could see the cruiser spinning and wheeling in the void, with a grace only an escort vessel should possess, keeping right behind the Battleship where they could not be targeted by the main gunz.

Toran blinked his one eye in shock, "He's doing it, as long as the Averof stays in the Ork's rear they can't target her."

Memnos commented, "Serves them right for putting all their Gunz on the front, that brute is like a horned Grox, dangerous to stand in front of but helpless if you can get behind it."

Wrethan though pointed out the flaw in the man's plan, "Look at the Averof's power curves, she's put all her energy into manoeuvring systems, slowing down her rate of fire. With half her guns slagged there is no way Mandas can break through their shields, all he can do is annoy the Orks and a single mistake will see him ripped to shreds."

"Then let us do something about that," Toran declared, "Jediah, load all guns batteries and prepare shooting solutions. Furion take us into the fight, but for Throne's sake keep us out of the arc of Greenskin guns." With a rumble the Light of Terra leapt forwards, seeming almost eager for the fray, she dove towards the distant pair of battling ships like a thrown spear and was just as deadly.

As the Battlebarge closed the Hololith pedestal flared and Captain Mandas appeared and barked, "About bloody time! I thought we would be dodging this beast all day long, I dread to think what all this dancing is doing to my old girl's superstructure!"

Toran replied, "Hold on just a little longer, we are almost in gunnery range, then we will slaughter this brute."

Mandas nodded and his image looked away as he directed his own bridge leaving Toran to watch as the Maw a'Gork slowly came into the arc of his ship's guns. They were rising from the gravity well at an oblique angle, putting their side to the enemy's flank as the most ancient aquatic sailors once had, a scene almost as old as mankind itself.

It seemed to take an eternity but finally they were lined up and the Captain ordered, "Shoot!" The Light of Terra erupted with plumes of discharging weapons, an entire flank of the great vessel sprouting towers of searing light. The salvo crossed the void in moments and impacted along the Ork's spine, blowing out shields and smashing into the hull. Armour parted and compartments vented as the rounds tore deep, but the titanic monster carried on regardless.

On the bridge Persion called, "Enemy vessel hit, but damage is minimal, we only stung her."

Toran grimaced and said, "Then we need to get closer… much, much closer. Bring us to port and place us right across their stern!"

The Light of Terra heaved to and brought herself across the stern of the Ork battleship, great cannons gleaming as she ploughed into knife fight range. The Orks tried to break away but they were even less manoeuvrable than the Battlebarge and could not stop her 'crossing the T' and firing right into their exposed engine cowls. This time the fusillade ripped into her engine blocks, to tear terrible gouges into her hull, which streamed plasma and other less pure substances. Macroshells exploded in sequence leaving terrible craters, plasma broiled away layers of armour while lasblasts made a ruin of deck after deck. Missiles fell like rain while Grav-cannons tore great gouges into the rear of the foe.

Toran saw the terrible wounding and ordered, "Fire Bombardment cannons!" The enormous turrets on the Battlebarge's spine lined up then as one spat deadly Magma-bombs right into the flaming rear of the Ork ship. The munitions penetrated armour as effortlessly as they would a city's streets and ploughed deeply within the vessel, then they exploded in mammoth balls of light. Debris and plasma spewed into the void as the engines haemorrhaged energy, then they stuttered and fell dead. The Ork ship lurched in space as her engines died and it went into a slow spin, drifting helplessly without power. There was no final dramatic explosion, no epic flash of light and destruction, just a slowly drifting corpse left to freeze in the cold dark of space. Doubtless many Orks survived within, but without power they were helpless to move or to fight. The Maw a'Gork had been reduced to a drifting hulk that the Imperials could pick off at their leisure.

On the bridge the crew erupted in cheers and songs of rejoicing, the victory once so fraught and unsure now looked as if it had never been in doubt. The serfs cried their victory to the rafters while the Space Marines rattled their gauntlets upon their chest plates in a triumphant beat. Wrethan gave voice to their jubilation, "Ship-kill! By the Divine Emperor, Ship-Kill!"

Through the noise Toran smiled and called out, "Two down, one to go. Persion what is the status of the last Ork ship?"

Persion bent to the comms stations for a moment then called out, "Spetsai signals that the Bighamma is running out her engines and burning for deep space. Lieutenant-Commander Grenfeld regrets to report that they cannot stop her; the last Ork Kroozer is going to escape. "

Toran was incensed by the thought that any Greenskin would flee after all the noble blood that had been shed this day and he snarled, "The hell they are! Plot an intercept trajectory and take us after them!"

As the crew returned to their posts Furion called up from the helm, "Brother-Captain, even at maximum thrust the Orks have a significant edge over us, we simply can't match their acceleration."

Toran glanced at the vectors and saw that he was right, the Light of Terra could not keep pace with the fleeing Kroozer but he was loathe to give up the chase. He quickly reviewed the assets at his disposal, discounting the Thunderhawks which were badly depleted from the battles, there was only one option left open to them.

Before he could change his mind Toran opened his armour's vox link and called to his squads stationed aboard, "Battle brothers this is Captain Toran, all initiates are to report to the prow of the ship at once."

Everybody looked at Toran askance but the Captain merely turned to the ordnance pulpit, "Novak, contact the Overseers of the forwards tubes and tell them I want a salvo of boarding Torpedoes made ready!"

Novak's face lit up with eagerness and he said, "Boarding torpedoes…. Oh Yes!"

As the bridge crew hurried to prepare, Wrethan pounded one armoured fist into his gauntlet and snarled, "A boarding action, perfect, how I have longed to spill Xeno blood!"

He was to be cruelly disappointed when Apothecary Memnos said, "Stop right there, you are going nowhere."

Wrethan's face fell and he could only muster a feeble, "But… but…"

Memnos was stern and unrelenting as he said, "In medical matters my word carries the authority of the Emperor himself, and I say you are not yet fit to fight. Your arm is still weak and your speed lacking, your presence now will slow the Company down."

Wrethan's face was a torturous grimace of conflicting emotions, stubborn refusal warring with resentment and the realisation of the horrible truth that the Apothecary was right. Toran had never seen him like this, for so long Wrethan had been a fierce, cantankerous mentor, but now when the Captain looked at him all he saw was another brother, shamed at the thought of being left behind.

Toran drew in a breath and said, "I agree with the Apothecary, you cannot come with us but not out of weakness."

Wrethan snapped around to face the Captain and he barked a little too fiercely, "What do you mean?!"

Toran drew in a breath and said, "My Company are walking into peril and we may need fast, decisive leadership should the battle go ill. We need someone here who is prepared to make the hard calls should we fall, that is why you will remain behind… and assume command of the fleet."

Wrethan's jaw dropped and he said incredulously, "Assume command?"

Toran nodded and said, "Yes and I need to know that should the Company fall you will not hesitate to do whatever is required to stop the Orks escaping."

Wrethan's face filled with pride at the responsibility, he nodded and held out his hand saying proudly, "You can count on me."

"I know I can," replied Toran gripping him wrist to wrist and then he led his Marine off the bridge.

As they walked Furion closed with the Captain and said, "Nicely done… but you do realise we are a half-strength Company going up against a ship full of Orks?"

"You're right," said Toran pausing for a moment to think about it, then he hit his vox and contacted his Devastator Sergeant saying, "Zeax, before you go to the boarding torpedoes I need you to divert to the Armoury, there is something there I need you to collect."